


Only Thunder

by alafaye



Category: Marvel
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-09
Updated: 2015-08-09
Packaged: 2018-04-13 17:48:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4531305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alafaye/pseuds/alafaye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was only thunder; nothing to be afraid of.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Only Thunder

**Author's Note:**

> Written as a fill [here](https://such-heights.dreamwidth.org/459287.html?thread=8295191#cmt8295191) at a MCU kissing meme. The prompt was "Clint, Natasha, storm". I had originally filled it, but then I expanded on it. It started, though, because I have this image in my head that little Natasha would have been scared of storms, but the Red Room wouldn't have taught her how to deal with it.

Clint sucked in a breath at the first clap of thunder. Laura shifted next to him. Another flash, more thunder. Rubbing his face, he sat up and went to check on the kids. They didn't always wake up with loud noises (thank god) and neither of them were afraid of thunder, but waking up in the dead of night could change a lot. 

But luckily, as the storm rolled quickly closer, neither of them stirred. As he turned back to his and Laura's room, he thought he saw movement downstairs. 

~~~

Natasha woke up already sitting up and armed. She frowned when she tried to figure out what had woken her--animal outside?--when the lightning and thunder happened again. She swallowed hard and tried to calm her heart.

Thunder. It was just...thunder. A storm in the middle of a hot summer, breaking the heat. Tomorrow, she knows, it will be cold. Tonight, though, it...the sound of it echoes ahead and back and then out again, playing against the mountains. 

Just thunder.

She's off the couch, wrapped in a blanket, in a corner before she can even think about it. Her guns are safely on either side of her, within easy reach. More thunder. The blanket goes over her head. It's a good quilt; worn, yes, and a bit threadbare, but that only means it's been well loved. It smells of this home, of Clint and his family and their open arms, open to her. She tries to think about it, focus on all of that goodness that's been poured into this quilt.

Another crash of thunder.

Noise on the stairs. In the kitchen. Water boiling. The thunder drowns it out.

Isn't there some trick to counting the thunder? A child's trick, to help them to not think about the storm. She tries. She starts counting, but she doesn't know why and she looses the numbers when thunder crashes again.

"Hey," Clint whispers, making noise as he enters the room.

She hunches her shoulders, curling in further. "Hi."

Another round of thunder. She closes her eyes. Thunder was natural, there was nothing to fear from them. Absolutely nothing.

Clint sinks to the floor next to her, another quilt in hand. He wraps it around both of them and puts two cups of tea on the floor next to him. He's quiet and just sits there.

Slowly, she leans into him and closes her eyes when the next crash comes. He kisses the top of her forehead and puts his arm around her shoulders.

It's only thunder. She kept repeating it to herself.


End file.
